


Named After a Flower

by Windian



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 00:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12618724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windian/pseuds/Windian
Summary: Neither of them are lovely, delicate flowers, really.





	Named After a Flower

“Oh, hey, look. I stepped on you,” says Rose.

Edna shoots her a particularly withering look. “What are you talking about?”

Deftly, Rose plucks the flower, twirling it between her fingers with the finesse she wields her blades.

“An edna flower, right?”

“Ha-ha,” replies Edna, distinctly unimpressed.

“So I have a question. How do seraphs get their names? Did you choose it, yourself, or--”

“Dummy,” Edna admonishes her. “My brother named me after the flower. It's sweet and lovely and ladylike.”

Rose can never help herself. “So nothing like you, then?” She grins widely as a cat. Edna glares daggers.

“Hilarious. I'm practically choking up from mirth.”

“I'm good like that,” Rose says, tossing the flower with one hand and snatching it up out of the air.

“Who names you _humans_ , then? You're no delicate flower yourself.”

Rose scratches her neck, rolling her weight onto her left leg. “My parents, probably.”

“ _Probably_?”

“Don't remember 'em. Died when I was young: my earliest memories are from growing up on the streets. Name's the only thing I have from them.”

There's no self-pity in this confession. Rose speaks as matter-of-factly as if they were discussing the itinerary on a shopping list.

Edna's eyes don't grow wide with sympathy. Nor does she punctuate an awkward silence with the usual abortive apologies. _I'm so sorry, I had no idea,_ she doesn’t say.

“Wow,” Edna says, “that sucks.”

It's probably why Rose likes her. 

“Here.” She tosses Edna's namesake into her hands. “A lovely flower for a lovely flower.”

Edna catches it, something wistful and longing skirting across her eyes like a passing boat, casting a shadow deep beneath the waves.

Her name's the only thing she has left, too. 

“Thanks, I guess.” Her hand closes around the flower like an oyster swallowing a pearl. 

Rose's answering smile is bright, shining. “You're welcome.” 

She pats a hand on the back of Edna's shoulder: they should hurry, after all, or the others will leave them both behind. 

 


End file.
